


Taking Care

by dolphinitley



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 10:10:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17201549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dolphinitley/pseuds/dolphinitley
Summary: Y/N gives Arthur medical attention when he escapes the O'Driscolls.





	Taking Care

It was a warm night at the Clemens Point camp. There were crickets chirping, fires crackling, and the occasional ‘plop’ of a frog jumping into the lake. The gang was going about their normal business, but nobody was rowdy tonight. You were sitting on Arthur’s bed, but Arthur wasn’t there. The pants you were hemming for yourself were almost finished.  
A cool breeze brought you out of your deep thought and back to the present situation. You needed to find another sewing project to stop yourself from stewing about the other day. When Dutch and Micah returned from the O’Driscoll meeting without Arthur, you instantly felt the rage spark inside of you.  
Dutch said that Arthur didn’t go back to the fork in the road where they planned to regroup after the meeting. “What? You left him?” you hissed at Dutch. “I’m sure he’s fine. It’s Arthur. He’s always fine,” he responded with a warm smile and walked to his tent.  
You knew that the three should not have gone to the O’Driscoll “peace” meeting that Micah proposed. The first time you met Micah, you knew there was something off about him. Why does anyone listen to a word he says? Why is he trusted? Micah’s reckless, even for this group of people. Dutch is stressed, and you worry he might unravel. He’s being hunted from all sides and not doing the best job at remedying the situations. His sins are putting the gang at risk of being collateral damage of whatever warfare will inevitably ensue.  
You fantasized about taking off, but where was there to go? You didn’t have a home to go back to. Every town you went to was full of people you really didn’t care for. You didn’t want to go back to life as a lone nomad, always on guard. You actually liked most of the gang and they liked you. It didn’t hurt that you had done some medical training under your father, who was a doctor before he passed. You were useful to the camp and they were useful to you. They were a support system and provided a life full of excitement. The aspect that you didn’t want to admit made you most excited was Arthur Morgan. The moment you saw him, your heart fluttered. He’s handsome, smart, and kind. For the past few weeks you had been a bit playful with each other. Sometimes he’d sneak up next to you and lightly bump your shoulder with his shoulder. He’d tease you about wearing pants and not a skirt, until you convinced him there’s no reason a woman should be restricted by a long skirt. You’d give each other knowing looks across camp at the ridiculousness of the drunken Pastor or the stupidity of Micah. You were too nervous to initiate anything but to your surprise Arthur sparked your friendship by taking you on a rabbit hunting trip a few days after you joined the gang. It was instantly so easy to talk to each other. You had good chemistry and were becoming very good friends. More and more often, you’d find yourself noting little things about him to daydream about later. It was silly. You knew that. But there was never a night when it didn’t feel good to be sitting around the fire drinking with the gang and to rest your head on Arthur’s strong shoulder. Then he’d rest his head on your head. You had only been in the gang for about a month and you wouldn’t dare try to start a romantic relationship in such a new and volatile situation. You were treading lightly, but had already developed caring feelings for the gang, and most of all, Arthur.  
You faintly heard the ‘clip clop’ of a horse and squinted into the darkness of the woods. After a few moments the trotting was definitely getting louder and the white Arabian emerged from the dark into the moonlight. You exhaled at the realization that it was Arthur’s horse. You dropped the sewing and stood up. The Arabian came to a stop by a hitching post at the edge of camp. You saw the rider collapse off the horse and onto the ground. “Arthur” you whispered to yourself. “Arthur!” You sprinted toward him and knelt down next to him, resting one hand on his bicep and the other on his forehead. He was so weak. He was beat up and shot in the shoulder, wearing only a Union suit. Your heart ached for him and your anger at Dutch grew. You turned your head back to camp and yelled for the three nearest men, “Charles! Lenny! John! Get over here, quick! It’s Arthur!”  
They ran to you and were shocked at Arthur’s state. They helped you carry him to his bed. A few others had become interested in the commotion and were standing around Arthur, telling him he’s safe and that he’ll be okay. He needed medicine and provisions. You sprinted to the wagon and grabbed the first aid materials you needed to treat him. People saw you coming back with medical supplies and placed a chair next to Arthur for you to treat him. In a hushed tone you said, “Charles, Lenny, John, I may need you to hold him down for this.” The three solemnly nodded and got closer to Arthur’s limbs. You were prepping the tools to extract the pieces of bullet still in his waxy cauterized wound. Arthur’s eyes slowly opened and looked to you. You caught his weak gaze and held it for only a moment before recomposing yourself. “Arthur. I need you to do somethin’ for me, okay? I need you to tell me in detail the story about how you found your Arabian, okay?” You wanted him to focus on a detailed story he loved to tell so that he could focus a little less on the pain you were about to inflict on him. You began the process of removing the bits of lead from his body. He did his best to blurt out lines of his story while white knuckling the sides of his cot. After a few minutes, the pieces of the bullet were removed and the wound was cleaned and covered.  
Miss Grimshaw had brought over water, medicine, and provisions, and placed them on the table behind you. You exhaled and took his forearm in both of your hands. His eyes weakly opened, and he smiled at you. You gave a sad smile back. You slowly administered the provisions to him and examined his broken ribs and other minor cuts and bruises. You fell asleep sitting on the ground with your head on his cot, and your hand on his wrist.


End file.
